


The Reason I Hold On

by Anonymous6285



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Family, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Feels, Financial Issues, Gen, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Online School, Quarantine, Sad Ending, Social Anxiety, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anonymous6285
Summary: Paul's just about had enough, but his dad is there for him.-"It's not much of a life you're living"It's not just something you take, it's given"Round and around and around and around we go"
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	The Reason I Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my English class based on the prompt "Write a fictional story about online school based on a song you think fits."  
> (Song is Stay by Rihanna)
> 
> So I changed the character names and posted it ahaha

“Maybe if you’d just listen to me, everything would be fine!” came the screams of one of the men in the kitchen. Recently, that had been the only sound loud enough to beard. “You need to get in touch with him, or he’s not going to report it, and we’re going to be stuck paying for the damage!”

“I’ve already told you, George,” Ringo seethed. “I fucking tried to call him and text him. He blocked my number!”

“Rich--”

“He’s eighteen! He’s scared because he ran into somebody, and he doesn’t want his parents to know, so he’s ignoring it.” He groaned and let his hand slide down his face, pulling on his lip in the process. “We should’ve got his name…”

“I told you to! And you said, ‘no, Georgie. No, it’s fine. I have his number. All’s good.’ I mean, can’t you find out his name from his number, anyway?”

“You think I didn’t try that?!” Ringo glared at him, the anger in his eyes much worse than it always had been. “I called the insurance company, and they said unless the kid reports the accident, too, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Surely, he’ll--”

“Guys,” their son interrupted from the dining room, just two feet away. The confines of the house only made their situation that much more awful. They both turned to look at him. “Could you quiet down? I can’t hear my bloody teacher.”

“Paul McCartney!” Ringo exclaimed. “Did you just curse at me?”

“I cursed at both of you! Now keep it down! Econ’s hard enough without you two arguing!”

“We weren’t arguing,” they both protested, glancing at each other and rolling their eyes. 

“Well, whatever you’re doing, shut the hell up.” Paul huffed and stuck his second earbud back in his ear. He wished there was somewhere else he could do this, but the rainy season had started, so he couldn’t go outside, and he couldn’t stand being in his room when he didn’t have to.

It was sad, really. Having to spend high school staring at a screen like a never ending Khan Academy video. And still, he was punished for not having his A’s and B’s.

He stared at the countless blank screens with two dimensional names for the rest of class, the most he’d gotten out of it was something about labour resources, but he didn’t know what the hell that even meant. As class drew to an end, he was the first to leave the meeting before slamming down his laptop screen and laying his heavy head down in his arms.

“Can we even afford that?” George said angrily, his two fathers already starting to fight again. It hadn’t been ten minutes. “We don’t have the best insurance, Richard. You need to find a way to get in touch with that kid or we’re fucked.”

Ringo just groaned, opening up the fridge. It was full of the same food they’d all been eating for months on end. George sighed and glanced over at Paul to see that he was… shaking?

“Paul?” he said, getting no response but a sniffle. “Was that you, sweetheart?” He heard another. “Can you answer me? Are you sick or just crying? It’s important that we make sure to--”

“Just fuck off!” Paul shouted, getting up and running the whole ten feet to his bedroom door before slamming it shut. It didn’t have a lock, like all the other doors in the small house, so nothing stopped George from walking right in and sitting on his bed next to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly. It was hard to be mean to that.

“S’nothing. I just… I hate school. And I hate it when you guys fight.” His father’s face softened, putting a hand on his shoulder. “And I especially hate it when you guys fight when I’m in school.”

“I’m so sorry… you know Papa and I got in a crash the other day. We’re just trying to deal with it.” Paul mumbled something. “We’ve all been cooped up together for too long, okay? If we can just get past this, we can get you whatever you want for the holidays. No matter the cost. How does that sound?” The boy shrugged. “What do you want, anyway?”

“Don’t really want anything.” He didn’t think about how much more crowded the place would get if he mentioned he wanted a guitar. “I want a new house. M’tired of being in here. Tired of having to stare at the same walls everyday.”

“You know we can’t move into a new house, love. We would if we could, believe me. But you’re almost off to university. We’ve got that to pay for. And your therapy--”

“I don’t even get to see her!” Paul cried, finally leaning onto George’s shoulder. A sob rang through the air.

“W-what?” His father’s face grew concerned. “What do you mean? Sweetie, we’ve been paying for all of your Tuesday appointments. Have you not been going?”

“I have, but… it’s just not the same anymore. I hate it. It’s just another stupid chore on another stupid screen. A waste of forty-five minutes.” George sighed, pulling Paul’s head closer to him and running his fingers through his hair. 

“Oh, love… Paul… why didn’t you say something sooner? Maybe we could arrange for you and John to meet up somewhere? You could walk down to the record store together--”

“I don’t talk to John anymore,” Paul whispered, and George’s eyes widened. John and Paul had been inseparable ever since they’d met years before. “School is so draining. You think I have the energy to sit on the phone and talk to somebody? I don’t even remember how. I’m sure he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate--”

“I’ve been ignoring him for months, because I didn’t know what to do with myself. I mean, the fucking sun was the only thing I had to look forward to each day, and now it’s gone by the time I’m even out of school.” Paul continued to cry into his dad, sobbing into his chest. “I miss people…” he admitted softly. 

George only held him. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. The boy was right. There really wasn’t a bright side, no light at the end of the tunnel, hand reaching down from the heavens with the promise that everything would be okay.

This was just what life had become.

“Do you want some pizza?” he asked, knowing that was the only thing he couldn’t have grown tired of yet, and Paul nodded weakly.

They were just going to have to get through.


End file.
